


My Own Dear Friends

by angelsaves



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: BDSM, Biting, Face Slapping, M/M, Podfic Available, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2014-12-07
Packaged: 2018-02-28 13:54:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2735039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelsaves/pseuds/angelsaves
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since the day he met Jack Zimmermann, Shitty has seen it as his solemn duty to aggressively love him. (He just didn't know how aggressive the love Jack needed would be.)</p>
<p>Includes enthusiastically-consented-to sexy hitting and egregious overuse of the word "fuck." Unbetaed. I'm probably going to hell extra for this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Own Dear Friends

Ever since the day he met Jack Zimmermann, Shitty has seen it as his solemn duty to aggressively love him. He's like a tiny, tender fucking flower under that stoic Canadian hockey-robot exterior, and that gets to Shitty like nothing else. He wants to take care of Jack, and more than that, help him grow into the strong, hardy plant Shitty knows he can be, like... okay, this metaphor is getting away from him a little, maybe.

"Ransom!" he shouts, even though Rans is right across the table from him.

"We're in the _library_ , bro!" Ransom hisses.

Shitty waves this off. "What's a strong, hardy, like, manly plant? I'm working on a metaphor, here."

Ransom narrows his eyes at him over his laptop. "A manly plant," he repeats. "Is this some kind of LSAT question?"

"Dude, the live oak," Nursey says, putting down his book. "'Rude, unbending, lusty.'"

Holster punches Shitty in the arm. "Bro, it's you!"

Shitty nods sagely -- he's not wrong -- and googles first "live oak," then "live oak rude unbending lusty." The tree is long-lived and provides shelter for all kinds of wildlife, it turns out, which is pretty much exactly what Shitty wants for Jack, and the poem Nursey was quoting -- that's not bad either.

"Uttering joyous leaves, huh?" Shitty says, glancing up at Nursey.

"Good line," Nursey says, nodding.

Shitty wants Jack to utter the most joyous fucking leaves imaginable, and he doesn't want him to have to do it alone. He fingers his 'stache and thinks about this.

***

That night, after dinner, Shitty opens Jack's bedroom door to find him lying flat on his back on the bed, fully-clothed, staring at the ceiling. "You look like a man in need of a cuddle," Shitty informs him.

Jack doesn't move, which Shitty has learned to interpret as an invitation. Shitty closes the door, then climbs onto the bed next to Jack, fitting himself against Jack's side like a puzzle piece and throwing one arm over Jack's chest.

"Mmph," Jack says, but he relaxes a tiny bit, letting his head fall against Shitty's.

"That's right, let it all hang out," Shitty says into his neck.

Jack tenses up again, and takes a deep breath, like he's going to say something. Shitty waits. He does it again, then says, "People tell you stuff."

"All the time, bro." He pats Jack's pec calmingly. "Nothing shocks me anymore. Like, not like much ever did, but, yeah. People tell me stuff."

"What if I wanted to tell you stuff?"

Part of Shitty wants to leap up and fling himself into the wall in a truly epic breakthrough celly, but he tamps that down and just says, "I'd listen."

"Okay," Jack says. They lie there in comfortable silence for a few minutes -- well, mostly silence; Beyoncé is filtering up from the kitchen, where Bitty is stress-baking over calc, and it sounds like someone is having sex in the attic, but that might just be the ghosts fucking around with Ransom -- and Shitty tries not to think too hard about what's going on in Jack's head. He'll tell him, or he won't. It's all good.

"What if," Jack begins, then breaks off to take more deep breaths. "What if I want something?"

"Then you're human, and Holster owes me $50," Shitty says, and Jack makes a little sound that might be a laugh.

"What if what I want is bad?" he asks.

Shitty considers this. "Depends on what you mean by 'bad,'" he says, finally. "Like, is this something that's going to hurt somebody else, or --"

"Just me," Jack says, so quickly that Shitty's not sure he heard him right.

"What?"

"I want it to hurt _me_ ," Jack says. "That's bad, isn't it. I'm fucked up." He tries to get up, but Shitty throws one leg over both of his.

"Nah," Shitty says, when Jack stops struggling. "Bro, that's not even the weirdest kink someone's told me about this week."

"Seriously?" Jack asks, his voice small.

Shitty squeezes him tighter. "Seriously." After a little while, he adds, "I could help you find somebody, if you wanted, so you could, like, try stuff out."

"No," Jack says. "I mean --" He takes another couple of deep breaths. "Would you? Help me?"

"Sure," Shitty says. "One of the women in my sexuality seminar co-runs the Samwell College Munch, I can see if --"

"No," Jack says again. "Would _you?_ I trust you."

Shitty pushes himself up to a sitting position and looks down at Jack. He looks -- fuck, he looks so sad, like he's bracing himself for Shitty to let him down. No way is he going to be the one to knock down this delicate fucking sapling. "Okay," he says. "Okay. I can do that."

"You don't have to," Jack says, but he's sitting up, too, and the hope in his eyes is the most beautiful, heartbreaking thing Shitty's seen since Lardo's last art installation, and he's not even baked right now.

"You're my best friend," Shitty tells him, leaning their foreheads together. "If I want to do something for you, I will, motherfucker."

This time, Jack really does laugh. "Okay," he says. "Thanks, Shits."

"Don't thank me yet," Shitty says. "You don't even know if I'm any fucking good at it."

"It's not exactly complicated," Jack says. He hasn't backed away from their forehead-hug yet. "I just want you to knock me around and --" He stops.

"And what?" Shitty asks gently.

"And sex stuff, I guess, but you don't have to, I know you like women --"

"I do like women," Shitty agrees, resting his hands on Jack's shoulders. "And men, sometimes. Plus, there have been a few individuals who fall under the genderfluid umbrella who floated my proverbial boat."

"Oh," Jack says. "The... what kind of umbrella?"

"Genderfluid," Shitty says. "Outside the binary. Anyway, not the point. The point is that sex stuff is on the menu." His stomach growls pointedly at that choice of words, and he adds, "So is whatever Bitty is cooking. I could bring some up here, you know, sustenance for our continued discussion, or whatever."

"I'd like that," Jack says.

Shitty pats him on the back, bracingly, and heads down to the kitchen. When he gets there, he goes straight to the sink and drinks two big glasses of water in a row.

"Shitty! Try this," Bitty says, cutting into something that smells so good it's like it has cartoon tendrils dragging Shitty over by the nostrils.

He opens his mouth like a baby bird and lets Bitty feed him a bite. It's melty and chocolatey and so good that Shitty's eyes roll back in his head. "Bits, you have out-fucking-done yourself," he says. "I need two plates of this immediately, and for my birthday, I need you to make me an entire fucking bathtub full of it, okay?"

Bitty beams. "Thank you!" he says, getting out plates and forks. "It's a new recipe. Is this for Jack?"

"Sure is," Shitty says.

"Good. He seemed like he was having a hard day." Bitty sets the two plates of chocolate magic orgasms or whatever in Shitty's hands. "You take good care of him."

"Yes," Shitty says, because whether that's an observation or an imperative -- yes.

Back in Jack's room, Shitty hands over one of the plates. "Put this in your beautiful fucking face, bro," he commands, then sits down on the bed to watch.

Jack takes a bite, and -- wow. If the face he's making right now is even close to his o-face, then, yeah, sex stuff is not going to be even a little bit of a problem for Shitty. He's suddenly aware of the fact that he's wearing nothing but an elderly pair of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles boxers, in a way he hasn't been around Jack in years.

"What?" Jack asks, and Shitty realizes that, whoops, he's kind of staring.

"Nothing," he says. "Eat your -- thing."

Jack rolls his eyes, but goes back to eating, and so does Shitty. When they've scraped their plates clean, Jack gets up and stacks them on his desk.

"What do you want to do?" Shitty asks while his back is turned.

"Will you hit me?" Jack asks. "In the face?"

The idea of it doesn't really do much for Shitty, by itself, but the way Jack's voice almost breaks on the words -- yeah. "Okay," he says, reminding himself to be chill. "Come over here."

He's expecting Jack to sit down on the bed, but instead, he kneels down in front of him, tilting his face up like a fucking flower.

"Okay," Shitty says again, and rests his hand on Jack's cheek. Jack closes his eyes. "Don't, uh -- don't bite your tongue." He lifts his hand and slaps Jack, just lightly.

Jack's eyes open. "Harder," he says quietly, "you can do it harder, please," so Shitty does it again, with a little more muscle behind it.

It leaves a bright red print on Jack's cheek, and Shitty's not sure how he feels about that -- and then Jack is surging up into his lap and kissing him. He's sure how he feels about this: strongly positive. He gets his hands in Jack's pants and his tongue in Jack's mouth, and fuck, this is 'swawesome.

Jack grinds down in his lap, then pulls back, looking surprised. "You're hard," he says, and does it again.

"Uh, yeah, bro," Shitty says. "When I said I was sometimes attracted to men, that was definitely not meant to exclude present company. Kind of the exact opposite, actually."

"Oh," Jack says. "Good. Will you --" He squares his shoulders. "Will you hit me again, and make me suck you off?"

Shitty gulps. "I -- yeah, I can do that."

Jack climbs out of his lap and gets back down on his knees. "You can do it harder if you want," he says, taking Shitty's hand and putting it on his cheek.

"Fuck," Shitty says with feeling, and this time, when he hits him, Jack's head rocks back a little. Shitty sucks a breath in through his teeth, afraid he's taken it too far, but Jack _moans_ , and fuck, that does things to him. "Jack --"

"You want something?" Jack asks. He's got the same little "ha ha, I made a funny" smile he's always had, but the slapped-red cheeks are new, and yeah, Shitty does want something.

"Yeah," Shitty says, "I want you to suck my cock."

Jack licks his lips. "Make me," he says.

Shitty's not sure what to do, honestly, but then Jack takes his hand again and puts it on the back of his head, curling their fingers into his hair. Okay, he's taken a drama class or two, he can work with this. He tugs Jack's head back by the hair and says, "You heard me."

Jack leans forward and nuzzles Shitty's cock, right through his threadbare boxers, spreading his thighs with his hands. "You like this?" he asks, all hot breath.

"Yeah, I fucking do," Shitty says. "Don't tease me."

That must be the right thing to say, because Jack pulls out his cock and swallows it down with an obscene little "mmm" sound. Shitty's fingers tighten in Jack's hair, and Jack hums again, happily.

"Yeah," Shitty says softly. "Jack, you beautiful cocksucking motherfucker --"

Jack actually fucking moans around his cock, and reaches down to open his own pants. Fuck, he's not just sucking Shitty's cock, he's getting off on it.

"Bro, you're so good at this, I'm done," Shitty says, pulling Jack's hair again. "Seriously, I'm going to come --"

"On my face," Jack says. His voice is a little rough. "I want --"

He closes his eyes, and that's it -- Shitty stripes his face with jizz. "Fuck, you look good like that," he says, almost under his breath, leaning forward to wipe off the worst of it.

"Oh --" Jack grabs Shitty's hand, pressing it to his face, and jerks himself faster. It's all Shitty can do to watch him, thew ay his face changes as he gets closer to the edge.

"Yeah, that's it," Shitty encourages him. "I want to see you come."

"Shits!" And, wow, Shitty didn't even know that happened in real life, but Jack Zimmermann can apparently come on command.

"Wow," Shitty says. "That was..." He shakes his head. "Something else."

"Yeah?" Jack sits back on his heels and looks up at him.

"Yeah," Shitty says. He can't decide which he wants to do more, mess up Jack's hair or kiss him, so he does both. "Now get some rest, will you? We have practice in the morning."

Jack gets up and stretches. "I hear the captain is a real hardass."

"Rumor is, he's loosening up," Shitty says, and gropes him on the way out the door.

***

Practice is fucking early, but it's worth it to see what a good mood Jack is in. All through drills, he has a little smile on his face, and he pats the frogs on the back until they're practically glowing. It's nice, and Shitty can't deny that he feels a little smug about it. Okay, more than a little.

When they get back to the Haus, Bitty makes everybody pancakes, and Shitty keeps on looking at Jack while they eat. On the one hand, he kinds of wants to see what Jack would do if he started playing footsie with him; on the other hand, there is a non-zero chance that it would involve knocking the table over, and Bitty's banana-nut pancakes are too good to die that ignominious a death. Still, it's a nice thought.

Shitty finishes his pancakes and heads up to his bedroom, trying to decide if he'd rather take a nap or work on his LSAT study guide first. Instead, Jack follows him into his room and closes the door.

"I want," he says, and Shitty feels this complicated mixture of feelings welling up in his chest: pride that Jack is learning to say this shit out loud, and wonder that he's saying it to Shitty, and nervous excitement about exactly what the fuck he _is_ saying. "Will you push me around?"

Shitty just nods. Jack is standing there, looking like he doesn't know what to do with his hands; Shitty grabs him by the shoulders and turns him around and shoves him face-first into the door. "This what you want?" he asks into Jack's ear.

"Fuck," Jack says. "Yes." He drops his head, making the muscles of his back stand out, and Shitty can't resist pulling his collar aside and running his mouth over them. Jack arches into it, pushing his neck into Shitty's face.

"You want me to bite you?" Shitty asks, even though he's pretty sure he knows the answer, because he wants to hear Jack say it. "Sink my teeth in right -- here?"

"Yeah, fuck, _Shitty,_ " Jack almost whines, and fuck, he's humping that glorious fucking hockey ass back against Shitty's cock. Shitty's not made of stone, here, so he bites down and runs the tip of his tongue over the fold of skin he's got between his teeth. "More, please --"

"Gonna have a wicked fucking hickey," Shitty points out, touching where the bite mark is already flushing red.

"I fucking know," Jack says, glaring over his shoulder, so Shitty does it again. This time, he lets his hands wander a little, too, over Jack's cut abs, where the V of his hips disappears under his waistband. Jack seems to like that, from the way his breathing gets a little rough.

"Want me to jerk you off?" Shitty offers, before he lets his hands get any further into Jack's pants.

"Will you hit me again, first?" Jack asks.

"Yeah, bro. Whatever you want," Shitty says, backing off so Jack can turn around. "You want it in the face again, or what?"

"Yeah," Jack says, lighting up, "and maybe -- you like my ass."

"Your ass is a treasure," Shitty agrees. "You want me to smack it?"

Jack nods, biting his lip. Shitty glances down, and wow, that is a sizeable tent in Jack's pants.

"Okay, yeah," Shitty says. "I definitely want that in my lap, so get your clothes off, already."

Watching Jack strip down is usually just a day ending in Y for Shitty, but then, Jack isn't usually revealing an arc of really impressive bite marks or an even more impressive boner. Shitty would have noticed. He sits down on the bed, and Jack settles himself over his thighs, pillowing his head on his arms.

"Don't be a wuss about this, Shitty," Jack says, muffled.

"Is that a dare?" Shitty demands. Jack slants him a grin over his shoulder, and fuck, Jack. He centers himself and lays a solid smack on Jack's ass, feeling the tingle all the way up his arm.

"Oh, _fuck_ ," Jack says, wriggling in Shitty's lap. "Shitty, fuck, do that again."

There's no way Shitty can say no to that. He smacks Jack again, on the other cheek, so he matches, and Jack lets out a ragged moan and, fuck, humps Shitty's thigh. "You like that?" he asks, just because.

"Don't stop," Jack says, which Shitty guesses is enough of an answer for him. 

So he keeps going, keeps hitting Jack and getting those fucking noises out of him, until his arm feels like spaghetti, and he finally says, "My arm, man, I gotta stop."

"Mmm," Jack says drowsily. He rolls over on Shitty's lap, and, fuck, if Shitty thought he looked good with his bright red ass in the air -- and make no mistake, he really fucking did -- that's nothing to the way he looks on his back. His eyes are damp at the corners, and his lip looks like he's been biting it, and his cock is smearing precome on his abs. Fuck, Shitty is so gone on him.

He leans down and kisses Jack's red, red mouth, just gently, but Jack winds his fingers in Shitty's flow and pulls him in, deepening it. "Okay, okay," Shitty says into the kiss, and gets his hand on Jack's cock.

The spanking, or whatever, must have really done it for Jack, because Shitty's barely stroked him twice before he's fucking up into Shitty's fist, panting into his mouth, and coming in hot spurts. Shitty watches him catch his breath and feels fucking lucky.

Jack opens his eyes after a little while. "You could fuck me," he says. "If you wanted."

Shitty's heart skips a beat. Part of him wants to say yes, _fuck_ yes, but the rest of him isn't sure his feelings can take it. "Maybe next time, bro," he says, and pushes Jack's sweaty hair back from his forehead. 

"Okay," Jack says sleepily, and leans into Shitty's touch.

***

Eventually, Jack rolls off Shitty's lap and falls asleep, and Shitty covers him with a blanket, then climbs out the window and calls Lardo. "Come over," he says.

"'Kay," she says, and when she shows up ten minutes later, she has two joints behind her ear and two cups of frozen yogurt in a paper bag.

They smoke and eat in silence for a while, and it's exactly what Shitty needs. The knots in his stomach slowly uncurl, and he leans back against the wall, stretching out his legs.

Then Lardo reaches out and pokes him in the knee. "Talk," she says.

Shitty blows out a plume of smoke. "Have you ever, like... gotten in way over your head with something?"

"Sure," Lardo says, and takes another hit. "This have something to do with...?" She tilts her head towards the window to Shitty's room, where Jack is, as far as he knows, still sleeping like an adorable fucking baby.

"I'm not freaking out," Shitty says, a little too loudly.

"Uh-huh." Lardo opens her arms, and Shitty cuddles up to her gratefully. She pats his hair, which feels really incredibly good. "You're a good guy," she says after a while.

"I try," Shitty says.

"Yeah." Smoke swirls away from them. "Even if you are a fucking vampire."

Shitty jumps, and Lardo snickers. "I put a blanket over him," he says helplessly.

"They could use his neck for dental records," Lardo says, still laughing. "You could've just put a ring on it."

"That's not -- we're not --" Shitty gestures expressively. "He doesn't -- we're just --"

"Breathe," Lardo says. He does. "What do you want?"

"It's not about what I want," Shitty says. "It's for him." Lardo makes a disapproving sound. "I'm not -- fucking sad about it or anything," he says, feeling weirdly defensive.

"Kind of," Lardo says, and, well, Shitty can't really argue with that.

"Yeah," he says.

They sit like that for a while, letting the high soak through them, and eventually, Lardo says, "Don't be dumb."

"Thanks," Shitty says, genuinely.

She pinches him. "I mean it. Don't, like, overthink yourself out of something you care about."

"I'm working on the law school thing," he says, deliberately misunderstanding her. She lets him, which is a sign of what a great fucking person she is.

"Yeah, whatever." Lardo stubs out her joint and shoves him in the back. "Get off me, I have a thing."

"A thing, huh?" Shitty scoots out of her way.

"I'll tell you about it later, maybe." She disappears through the window.

Shitty stays out on the roof for a little while, until he sees Lardo leaving the Haus. Then he climbs back into his room and contemplates the sight of Jack Zimmermann drooling on his pillow. It's a good one.

"I could move," Jack says, slurring a little.

"Nah," Shitty says, and gets in the bed with him, shoving him into a better spooning position with his knees. "You're good."

***

When Shitty wakes up, the first thing he sees is the bruises he left on Jack's neck, so obviously, he nuzzles them, just to see what happens. Jack makes a happy noise and says, "You're awake."

"So are you," Shitty says helpfully.

"I was serious, before, when I said you could fuck me." Jack rolls over so they're facing each other.

"Yeah?" Shitty says. He thinks about saying yes, and he thinks about saying no, and he thinks about Lardo telling him not to be dumb. "It turns out I'm kind of fucking old-fashioned, bro," he says finally.

Jack's brow creases. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, I don't want to just..." He can do this. He is an eloquent motherfucker. "You kind of mean a fucking lot to me, Jack Zimmermann. I want to do this right."

"You mean a lot to me, too," Jack says. "That's kind of why."

"Good," Shitty says, and grabs Jack's ass in both hands. "I want to wife your ass up."

"Just my ass?" Jack asks, moving in Shitty's grasp.

"It's a fucking synecdoche," Shitty informs him, and kisses him.

"I can deal with that," Jack says. "Nerd."

"Oh, it's on!" Shitty tackles him. They wrestle for a while, until Jack bucks up against Shitty's thigh and gasps, and Shitty bites his nipple and he gasps even more. Yeah, Shitty has a good feeling about this.

**Author's Note:**

> The poem Nursey quotes is [I Saw in Louisiana a Live-Oak Growing](http://www.poetryfoundation.org/poem/174739) by Walt Whitman.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] My Own Dear Friends](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7633000) by [Hananobira](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hananobira/pseuds/Hananobira)




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